It wasn't unexpected, being dragged off the moment she walked through the gate. Varel had a new pile of paperwork and madness. Really, that would have been fine, if it hadn't been for the terrified look on the seneschals' face when he told her the darkspawn were about to march on Amaranthine. Hate it as she might, little backwater that it was, Kya did not want to see the city stomped into nothingness and tainted by talking monsters.

She also didn't want to die when she was still acting like a lovelorn twat.

Loghain would not have been proud, to say the least. Kya wasn't stupid after all; he'd loved her for all those qualities that so many others might find abhorrent in a woman - aggression, practicality, hard-headedness. . . pragmatism. Even Anders saw it in her after all; even in his backwards flirting, he'd called her the same. And honestly, she'd been acting anything but. What sort of practical reaction to Loghain's death, a death she always knew was coming, was moping and self-flagellation?

How pathetic to die in the coming days being such a low quality version of herself?

Kya sighed and leaned forward on her elbows. The paperwork wasn't getting done, and there was no point in pretending she was going to try. She knew in the morning, she'd have to stand in front of her Wardens and in front of the rest of the keep and tell them what was coming. Tonight they would have one last evening of not thinking their lives were hanging by a thread. Yet Kya felt the urge to tell someone because although the rest of the Vigil might get one last night of deep, restful sleep, she certainly wasn't going to.

Not unless she got so drunk she couldn't think, and frankly since becoming a Grey Warden, the quantity of alcohol that took was hardly worth the effort.

The thought of alcohol reminded her of a promise she'd made. She promised a drink with Nate. And Maker's fat behind, she knew she'd tell him what was coming the moment she tasted some alcohol; maybe it wasn't fair. Instead of going to him, spilling her guts and ending up . . . okay, honestly, ending up exactly where she was wanting to be. . . .

Hadn't she just been berating herself for not being practical? Why feel guilty for the exact thing that Loghain had pushed her towards? Kya wanted Nathaniel Howe. Denying it wasn't changing that cold, hard fact. And unless she'd gone blind, he shared the feeling. Why not take advantage of that; why waste one last chance to be alive while they were both still breathing?

There was a sharp rap on the door, but no voice followed it. Kya frowned but got up from the desk, glad to be without the weight of her armor. She leaned her head against the door for a moment, took a deep breath like a woman about to plunge under water and opened the door. Nate stood on the other side, a faint look of amusement on his face mixed with an equal amount of trepidation.

He was dressed simply, his ivory linen shirt rolled up to his elbows and untied at his neck. There was a little patch of dark hair just below the hollow of his throat. It reminded her of the patch of scruff he allowed to grow under his lower lip.

She wondered what it might feel like if he kissed her. It was not the first time she'd wondered about it.

Trying to keep her composure, she gestured him in. He had a pair of heavy crystal glasses in one hand, a dusty bottle in the other and he raised them in greeting.

"I knew there was some of the good stuff hiding here somewhere," he said. His voice gave away more anxiety than his face did. "And having been a teenager here, I knew right where to look." His grin was crooked and nervous. It made Kya feel drunk already. Without a word, she stepped back giving him room to pass. She wondered what kind of expression she was wearing, but didn't really want to hazard a guess. She imagined it was probably insipid.

"I warn you," she said as she closed the door. "If I drink that, I'm going to start talking and I may never shut up."

Nate gave her a crooked smile. She tried not to be totally mesmerized by the way the corners of his eyes crinkled when he genuinely smiled, instead of just faked it.

"That's fine with me," he replied. "Less pressure for me to say something witty."

Kya barked a little laugh. If nothing else, he was always doing that. He had just the right sort of dry, sarcastic humor to make her laugh; especially when she didn't think it was possible. He turned away and set the bottle on the table, fiddling with the cork and filling the glasses. She watched him a bit too carefully, intrigued by the smooth, seamless gait of his movements. He might have sometimes seemed a bit uncomfortable in his soul, but he seemed very at ease in his skin.

Nate turned and offered her a glass. Kya took it gingerly, wanting both to hesitate when their fingers touched and just as strongly wanting to run screaming in the other direction. She couldn't read his expression; it was carefully guarded. He smiled again, but this time the little crinkles in his eyes appeared and disappeared so quickly she almost missed it. He raised his glass.

"To . . . ," he began. He looked a bit self-conscious, but swallowed and continued. " . . . absent friends." There was no mistaking that he meant Loghain. Clearly he wasn't going to make this easy for her.

Kya raised her glass in reply. "And to new ones," she said, before gently touching the rim of her glass to his. Kya took a sip and discovered that the 'good stuff' was very old whiskey with a kick like a mule.

Kick or not, compared to darkspawn blood, it was pretty tame. So she smiled around the rim of her glass before taking another long drink and setting the glass back down on to her desk. She closed her eyes for a moment and reveled in the sweet burning sensation.

Kya opened her eyes to find Nate staring at her intently. He was leaning back against her desk, his whiskey cradled in one hand. His relaxed posture seemed equally forced and natural. Kya really wasn't sure how to explain it, other than to say perhaps he looked like a spring; Still, but ready to snap into action with the slightest provocation.

Trying to act as nonchalant as his posture had set the tone, she leaned up against the desk beside him, putting her hand down on the edge of the wood between them. He immediately followed suit, putting his hand beside hers very closely, but not close enough to touch. Kya could feel the warmth of his skin even without direct contact. She wanted to say something, that proverbial something witty that Nate had mentioned but she was at a sudden loss for words.

This was nothing like being with Loghain.

They'd argued as often as agreed, but they were never at a lack for conversation. Maybe it was because there was no pressure. They'd waited until after the Blight was defeated, when only the short days of their Grey Warden lives were in way of now. Between life and death right now there was another army of darkspawn, and this one was almost more frightening because these weren't the mindless animals they fought in Denerim. These things reasoned, considered and screamed their hate like men.

Kya did her best to blame this on the darkspawn, but she knew that was a hollow excuse. It was harder because they were different. Kya was a different woman, and Nate wasn't Loghain. Whether that was good or bad remained to be seen.

"So," she managed weakly, looking up at him out of the corner of her eye. "Do you want good news, bad news or pointless small talk?"

Nate raised an eyebrow at her and took another sip of his drink, wincing a bit as he did. "Well, I'm lousy at small talk," he replied. "And we both know there's no good news."

"There might be some," Kya said, smirking a bit and raising her glass. "But I am certain I will need a lot more of this to come up with something." She looked down at the floor. "So bad news then." She sighed. Was she really going to lay this on him?

It was more than just the darkspawn threatening to crash the keep. It was her guilt, her want and a liberal dose of blood magic. By Andraste's great flaming ass, she ought to just use the Maker damned blood magic on Nate, use him to scratch this infernal itch and get on with her life.

If only she didn't care about him too. Lust was easy; this was something else.

Nate startled her out of her recriminations with a hand on her shoulder. "Whatever it is, it can't be that sodding bad – unless the archdemon has returned, in human form or something." He chuckled, missing the sudden paleness of Kya's cheeks.

That too; but that was one secret she would keep.

She sighed again, trying to wash Morrigan's image out of her head. "Nothing so interesting, just . . . an army of talking darkspawn about to siege the Amaranthine and not nearly the manpower to safely hold them back."

"That all?" Nate said without missing a beat. "And here I thought it was something serious." He didn't even crack a smile.

"I know, just my female hysteria, I'm sure," Kya replied as dryly as she could manage.

Nate gave her a sly look, quietly appreciating the humor. "So how much time before we end up on the business end of darkspawn blades?" he asked, turning towards her slightly. His hand slid across the polished wood of the desk they leaned against, brushing against hers. He took another long drink from his glass, peering at her over the rim.

"Hard to be certain," she answered. "But from what Varel's scouts can tell, it won't be long." She conspicuously didn't move her hand away from his touch, and mimicked Nate, taking another drink herself. She was reminded of why some people called this stuff fire-water. Not only did it burn on the way down, but it was making her feel delightfully warm. Well, that or how close Nate was standing...either way, this room was damn hot. Kya felt a drunk and was surprised how little alcohol it was taking.

"Beautiful," Nate said, shaking his head. "Never ends, does it?"

Kya shrugged. "At least not until the last of the old gods are gone and we manage to exterminate the darkspawn. Although I must admit, this new development … the talking... it sort of changes things, doesn't it?"

"I don't know that it really does, not unless they decide to try to negotiate, like that odd one in the silverite mine." Nate looked like he was thinking back to the mine. His eyes glazed over a little. "It was actually hard to think of him, that Architect as a darkspawn. If I wasn't a Warden and knew how their taint feels? I'm not sure I would have believed it."

Kya caught herself watching his hands as he quickly tipped back the rest of his glass. He swallowed smoothly, setting his heavy glass back down on the desk and turning entirely towards her. His every movement was like a dance, slow and sure. Just like the rest of his body, his hands were defined, each bone and sinew moving together under the tautness of his skin. The veins were raised only just a little on his hands, though one snaked boldly across the top of his hand, spiraled around his wrist and crept up the bold expanse of his forearm towards his elbow.

She tore her eyes away from her appreciation of his skin, looking back up at him. She instinctually turned more towards him. "I wonder about that," she admitted. "If some creature offered a truce . . would I turn it away like the good dutiful Grey Warden I ought to be, or would I do what seems like the better idea, and try to avoid more bloodshed?"

"It seems to me you'd do whatever seemed more practical at the time," he replied simply. Perhaps he knew her better than she thought he did. She might have questioned the idea, being hypothetical, but in the moments she'd had choices, she'd always made the practical choice.

"You sure you don't want to be the commander instead?" she asked, finishing the last of her drink and slipping the glass between them to set it on the desk. They were standing very close together. Close enough that she had to tilt her head back to look up at him. "Because I think you're more sure of me than I am."

He smiled faintly. "I would not want to try to fill your shoes." He glanced over at their empty glasses. He picked up the decanter and refilled them both, handing her glass back to her. "Big shoes," he said. He took a long drink. "Besides, there are other things of yours I'd be interested in filling," he blurted out and immediately looked horrified. He nearly dropped his glass back on to the desk, some of the pale amber liquid sloshing out. "Maker's ass," he spat out before Kya could even react. "I . . . Andraste . . . I don't know what came over me." He took a quick step back away from me. "Kya . . . Commander . . . I'm sorry, I . . . ."

Kya hushed him by raising her hand. Her ears felt hot, and she was sure she was flushed. But not from anger or annoyance. The combination of his blunt admission, combined with sudden shyness was incredibly attractive. As if he hadn't already been driving her crazy...

"Nate," she said, taking a step towards him to close the distance he made between them. "Relax." She put her hand on his arm.

It appeared that in all her recrimination, her fear about her desire, she'd never stopped to think about his side of this. Somehow she forgot that he was more than just the object of her interest. He was not just a reminder of Loghain. Despite how similar they were at a glance, he was a man in his own right. Clearly as complicated, but young...and far softer hearted.

She'd never stop loving Loghain, but there was something to be said for a man who wasn't a constant battle.

"Maybe not the most smooth segue into seduction I've heard," she said, smiling and hoping he could see on her face that there was nothing lost here, and maybe something gained. "But it certainly didn't cause any bloodshed."

Nate only relaxed a little, his tension still a bowstring. "Andrastre's blood, I can't believe I said that."

"No harm," Kya chuckled. "You forget I've known Anders since I was a child. Blunt innuendo is marginally less shocking after spending any length of time with him."

"Even so," Nate said, giving his now half empty glass on the table a wary look. "If I didn't know better, I'd think there was something funny in that bottle."

And maybe there was, because Kya certainly felt more drunk than she had even once since taking her Joining. That included the night with Oghren and Anders that lead to Kya weeping into Anders' robes about how much she really wanted to . . . she looked up at Nate, standing there, still tense, still concerned he'd broken something. That night she'd finally said out loud that she desperately wanted to throw herself at Nathaniel Howe, and Maker, he was standing right there . . . .

Before her brain could stop her, she crossed the short distance between them, putting her hand on his forearm. The skin was as smooth as it looked, like fine brushed, sun-warmed suede. With delicate fingers, she walked along the ridge of muscle there, over the rolled linen at his elbow and up along the swelling of his bicep. Her gaze was riveted on the slow progress of her hand. She heard Nate take a sharp breath.

"Maybe there is something funny in there," she said, her voice low and intimately quiet. "Because it's certainly having an effect on me as well." Her fingers paused at his shoulder and she cocked her head before sliding them further, venturing from the linen of his shirt to the exposed skin of his neck. Her fingers stepped once, twice, across the hill of his collarbone.

"Or maybe," she continued, as her fingers continued until the pads of her fingers were touching the coarse hair in the hollow between those sharply defined collarbones, her palm slowly coming to rest on his chest. His heart was beating hard enough to feel with even this lightest touch. "Maybe," she said, tilting her face up to meet his pale grey eyes, "...maybe it's just us."

He looked down at her, and she watched with fascination as a myriad of emotions played themselves out in his eyes and in the fine planes and muscles of his face. For a moment, a crease appeared between his eyebrows and then smoothed, and Kya realized just how young and unlined his face was; how long he could stay standing here beside her; how long it just might be before either of them had to go meet that inevitable Grey Warden fate.

There were many, many years before them, if they survived the coming days. And if they didn't? If they didn't, she decided it didn't much matter. Because they were having this moment, and it was one worth taking to the grave.

Then, she didn't think about much of anything, because Nate leaned down and kissed her.